


A Light in the Dark

by PansyChubb



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: CritRole Bang, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansyChubb/pseuds/PansyChubb
Summary: A flash of light. A deafening bang. An image, seared on her consciousness: Percy, streaked with dirt and blood, sighting along the barrel of Bad News, a snarling beast bearing down on him.Another shot, and Pike saw what Percy was guarding: a small figure with dented armor, crumpled on the ground, golden hair soaking into a pool of blood.Pike gasped - except not really, because she didn’t exactly have lungs right now.[Written for the 2016 Critical Role Reverse Bang.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 Critical Role Reverse Bang to accompany the wonderful artwork of [elderly-scrolls](http://elderly-scrolls.tumblr.com/):
> 
> Crossposted on tumblr [here](http://pansychubb.tumblr.com/post/153547595832/a-light-in-the-dark-artist-elderly-scrolls).

" _Child._ "

 

Pike furrowed her brow. Or, she would have, if she’d been able to feel her face. Everything was a little confusing at the moment.

 

" _Child. Open your eyes. You may not have much longer._ "

 

Well, that was pretty strange - how could Pike open her eyes if she didn’t have any? Except, wait - that wasn’t quite right. Just what was going on?

 

“ _I have negotiated this gift for you, my dear one. Take it, before it is too late._ ”

 

 _I’m trying,_ Pike thought. She imagined scrunching up her face in concentration. _Who … ?_

 

If a sad smile had a sound, the voice made it now. “ _The rest is beyond my influence._ ”

 

_… Sarenrae?_

 

Pike opened her eyes. Darkness. Nothing but darkness.

 

Then, a flash of light. A deafening bang. An image, seared on her consciousness: Percy, streaked with dirt and blood, sighting along the barrel of Bad News, a snarling beast bearing down on him.

 

Another muzzle flash, another bang, and another frozen image – the beast’s face, twisted in pain, and Percy, his attention torn, glancing over his shoulder.

 

A third shot, this time followed by a low bellow that shook the darkness. But Pike saw it, what caused Percy’s distraction: a small figure with dented armor, crumpled on the ground, golden hair soaking into a pool of blood.

 

Pike gasped - except not really, because she didn’t exactly have lungs right now.

 

There was a crash as the beast fell, and it was a long moment before the echoes subsided into quiet, broken only by the muted sounds of the gunslinger’s ragged breathing.

 

Pike felt her hands shaking. She looked down at her astral form, glowing softly at the edges, then let her gaze drift across the now fully dark cavern.

 

“Sarenrae?” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she actually made a sound.

 

Percy gasped, and for a moment Pike thought he’d heard her, but then he turned and rushed in the other direction.

 

“How - why - ?”

 

“ _You lie at the border of life and death,_ ” the voice answered, and Pike was torn between startlement at the words and comfort at Sarenrae’s presence. “ _Memory of either is hazy at such crossroads._ ”

 

“But - where are we? What happened? Why am I - ” Pike cut off, swallowing hard.

 

“ _In time, child - if it is meant to be. For now, simply know that you succeeded, at great cost, and this is your reward._ ”

 

Pike’s next question stalled in her throat as she saw Percy drop to his knees – a good six feet from the prone form of her physical body. She watched as he leaned forward, hands searching in the darkness, until he had crawled far enough to brush against her armored leg. He scrambled closer, pent up breath releasing in a shaky sigh.

 

 _He can’t see,_ Pike realized, heart breaking as his trembling fingers searched her unconscious face. Then, with a different kind of heartbreak: _He can’t see me._

 

“Can anyone hear me?” Pike jumped as Percy’s clipped voice rang out, one hand at his earring and the other at the pulse point of her neck. It was beyond odd to see herself laid out like this, aware and separated, unable to feel his touch. “Is anyone there? Pike is – Pike’s down, and – and I don’t have any potions. If you can hear me …”

 

“ _You made a choice,_ ” Sarenrae said softly as Percy’s pleas echoed in the silence. “ _And he lives because of it. I wanted to show you, a last favor, if you should …_ ”

 

The sentence was left unfinished as a kindness, Pike understood, and not because the goddess was unwilling to accept her cleric’s fate.

 

Pike’s voice was small when she spoke. “Can’t you do anything?”

 

“ _I’m sorry, my dear one._ ” Sorrow and steel mixed in the ethereal voice. “ _Already I trespass on another’s domain – and that on a condition of no interference._ ”

 

“Damn it all.” Pike’s attention swung back to Percy as he fumbled blindly in his bag. “You’re a bloody fool, you know that?”

 

“Me?!” Pike couldn’t help but answer. She watched as he pulled out a wad of bandages and a basic healer’s kit.

 

“Should have finished it off,” Percy continued, grumbling, “before …” He grimaced as his fingers traced a deep, slippery gash running from her neck through her shoulder. “I would have been _fine._ ” Pike could hear the lie in his voice.

 

“ _Whatever happens now, my child, is as fate wills it._ ”

 

With a grunt of effort, Percy levered himself up and pressed the bandages to her wound, putting the full weight of his upper body into the task.

 

“Oh!” Pike gasped as an unidentifiable sensation ran through her. On the ground, her physical form made a noise.

 

“Pike?” Percy asked, strained. When there was nothing further, he ducked his head and readjusted his grip. “I’m sorry – I have to stop the bleeding.”

 

They stayed that way for a while – still, in the dark – before Pike moved, carefully stepping to Percy’s side. Dried blood matted the hair around his ear, coloring a thick swath down his neck to soak brown and red into his collar. His glasses were dirty, useless at the moment, slipping to the tip of his nose as his entire frame trembled.

 

“It’s all right, Percy,” Pike found herself saying. She reached up, running her small golden fingers through his dusty hair; they passed through without making contact. “You’re doing your best.”

 

After a moment, he relaxed, releasing a breath and sitting back on his heels. “All right,” he said, “that should do, for the moment. Now,” – he kept one hand on the bandages while the other reached for his bag – “let’s get some light on the subject.”

 

Pike felt a thrill of hope. “ _It seems fate,_ ” Sarenrae whispered, with what the cleric could swear was suppressed amusement, “ _may be on your side after all._ ”

 

“Then – can we help?”

 

“ _… perhaps,_ ” the goddess hedged. “ _Your body remains on the cusp, but …_ ”

 

Pike felt a swell of desperate gratitude. “Anything.” She closed her eyes and wrapped a hand around her holy symbol. “Please. Even if it’s small.”

 

A moment passed, and then Percy let out a startled noise. Pike looked up to see her holy symbol – the real one, lying on the dented armor of her breastplate – begin glowing. Squinting, Percy stretched out a hand, brushing his fingers against its edge as his vision adjusted to the growing light.

 

“Huh.” Percy withdrew his hand and adjusted his glasses. Then, with a lilted “thank you” – as if someone had handed him a tool he’d asked for, and not as if he’d just witnessed an act of divine influence – he began properly wrapping Pike’s wound.

 

Pike grinned, running her incorporeal fingers through his hair once more. “That’s it, cheer up. You’re doing a good job!” Then, a soft aside: “Thank you.”

 

Silence answered her. Pike’s smile faded. “Sarenrae?”

 

A moment, then: “ _I have stretched the boundaries of the agreement, child. I must leave._ ”

 

Pike’s heart clenched. “No!” she begged. “Please – we can’t leave him alone.”

 

A new voice drifted forth, feminine and soft – but where Sarenrae’s was light and gold, this was dark and crimson, with a deep richness that made Pike shiver.

 

“ _Your cleric may remain,_ ” the voice said, slow and clear, “ _as an observer only._ ”

 

Pike clenched her fists. “You … you’re – !”

 

“ _You enter my domain, child._ ” Pike instinctively recoiled at the endearment, so different from when her goddess used it. “ _Be glad I am generous._ ”

 

Pike started to protest, but the feeling of a gentle hand on her shoulder interrupted.

 

“ _More than generous,_ ” Sarenrae murmured. A comforting squeeze. “ _Goodbye, my child. I hope we will speak later._ ” Invisible lips pressed against Pike’s forehead, and then the presence was gone.

 

The holy symbol dimmed. Percy frowned, redoubling his efforts as darkness began to crowd in. When he finished, the shadows were much deeper, but the light remained steady – a small beacon, like a candle in deep night.

 

“I suppose that’ll do,” Percy sighed. He wiped a hand over his brow, leaving a smear of blood. “Do try to remain stable,” he admonished, and Pike found herself nodding in agreement, as if she had any control over the matter. “You’re the one who’s good at fixing people, not me. I …” He rubbed the spot between his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “I’m only good at breaking them, I’m afraid.”

 

“That’s not true, Percy!” Pike cried. “Look how good you did! It – it’s – ” For the first time, she forced herself to look down – at her own pale face, the way her breath came in shallow pants, the frighteningly large pool of blood around her head. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?” she finally admitted. She squared her shoulders and looked back at the gunslinger. “But you pulled me back! Even without magic or potions – you saved me!”

 

Percy sat back, exhausted, ignorant of her words. “Anyone there?” he tried again over his earring. “Vox Machina? Can anyone hear me?”

 

Pike looked around them as Percy’s voice echoed off far cavern walls. It was utterly dark, even to her astral-projected gnomish eyes, and the only features she could make out were a few nearby stalagmites – massive pillars that rose up and up and up into the vast black space above them.

 

Try as she might, she could not remember how she and Percy had gotten here, why they’d been fighting the beast, or how exactly they’d ended up as they were. “What happened?” she wondered aloud. 

 

As if in answer, something skittered in the darkness.

 

Pike whirled around, but not as fast as Percy; in the blink of an eye he was crouched over her body, pistol drawn and trained in the direction of the noise.

 

Ten, twelve, twenty heartbeats passed. Percy finally let out a breath, then holstered the gun. “Well,” he said, sounding rather put out, “I guess we can’t wait here for rescue.”

 

He lifted her with careful effort, and Pike was amused by how much she looked like a sleeping (and bloodied, heavily armored) child in his arms. After a moment of adjusting and balancing, he turned to face the darkness, the glow of the holy symbol barely lighting his way.

 

“Come along, Pike,” he said with the same tone she imagined he’d use upon leaving a dinner party at which he’d been insulted. “I’m afraid we can’t be staying any longer.”

 

Pike found she had no trouble keeping up with Percy, despite his long strides. They weaved amongst the boulders and columns, ears perked for any sound of pursuit or ambush. Eventually, the tension faded, and Pike began looking for ways to break the silence.

 

“Percy,” she asked, “why did you call me a fool?” She searched his face as they walked, wondering if she could find an answer there. “Sarenrae said I made a choice, and that you were alive because of it.” His eyes were focused ahead, mouth drawn in a grim line. “I hope it’s not because you think you’re not worth it.”

 

Percy’s foot slipped on a stone; he paused, readjusting his grip on Pike’s form. The small circle of light around them bobbed with the movement.

 

“Oh, Percy,” Pike sighed. “Sometimes, you’re … frustrating. You know that?” His glasses glinted in the glow as they moved forward once more. “Regardless,” she continued, trying to press her meaning into him through emotion alone, “that’s not foolish. It’s not foolish to care about people you love. Even if you do get hurt doing it.”

 

She watched him, looking for any sign of understanding, but the low light made him hard to read. The holy symbol bathed his chin and neck in yellow, making his face look wan and thin, and Pike fought against a frown as she returned her attention to the path in front of them.

 

“Thank you.” Pike swung her gaze back to Percy’s face, but he was still looking straight ahead; apparently, the silence had gotten to him, too. “In case … in case I don't get to say it later.” She thought she saw his grip on her tighten. “Thank you. For healing me. And - ”

 

Pike waited as Percy cut himself off with his signature sigh-groan of exasperation.

 

“And thank you for following me,” he continued. He finally looked down at the unconscious gnome in his arms, biting the inside of his lip as he took in her pallid expression. “When I … went off on my own. If you hadn’t, then … well. Thank you.”

 

Pike smiled. “You’re welcome.”

 

“Even if it was very, very dangerous of you to do so.”

 

Pike’s smile only widened. “Of course, Percy.” She reached up and grasped his arm, choosing to believe that her sentiment could reach him even through her astral form. “Anytime.”

 

A sudden look of hope crossed Percy’s face. He stopped, so quickly Pike nearly walked through him, and she again wondered if he’d heard her. Instead, he drew her body closer, awkwardly angling his arms until he could reach his earring with one hand.

 

“Keyleth? Keyleth! Oh thank gods, yes - we’re down here. Pike’s hurt. Where are you? Can you find us?”

 

Pike warmed at the utter relief in Percy’s voice as he took off at a jog. She followed, her astral form keeping pace easily, and smiled as he chattered with the rest of Vox Machina.

 

“See, Percy? You did it! Now what was that about only breaking people?” she teased.

 

To her surprise, Percy responded to her gentle chastisement with some of his own; as they turned a corner, near enough now to hear the echo of their friends’ voices, he brought her unconscious form close again and leaned down to whisper in her ear: “Don’t you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?”

 

Pike watched him hold her, alive and whole and healthy. Their friends, too, were approaching – their family, all of them together, a sum more than its parts. She felt her heart swell, and realized her answer.

 

“I’ll try, Percy. But no promises.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think about how game mechanics fit into various scenarios. In this one, Percy made a clutch nat20 Medicine check to stabilize Pike, who had gotten clobbered because she gave up her turn in battle to heal him when he fell unconscious.


End file.
